CHAPTER XX.
HOW PIERRE RADISSON SLEPT.
When I woke, it was in the midst of a grave silence. That may scarce mean sense, yet to the full it expresses the feeling that came upon me when I opened my eyes and looked about me. I was sitting against the cave wall, Ruth at my side, and Grim, his great honest dog's eyes full of pain, crouching and looking up at me.
Now the little cave was full of light and men—Uchichak and other chiefs of the Crees, who were standing silent before me, while the light smoke from the dry wood drove past us in the draught. Ruth was bathing my face with water, but I pushed her hand away. This silence among so many boded ill, and oppressed me strangely. I remembered Radisson, and sought for him through the crowding forms.
He was sitting against the wall, with the Swift Arrow at his side, their hands clasped. But, although the Mohawk was well-nigh gone, never had Radisson's face seemed happier, younger and nobler. Hope leaped into my heart that he had not been as sore stricken as we had thought.
Ruth helped me to my feet. We went over and sat beside him. His hand closed on ours, and he smiled kindly on Ruth.
"Well does the Great Swift Arrow deserve his name," he said softly, so that the dying eyes of the old chief lit up. "He brought Uchichak to us and sped on ahead of him, and so saved us all."
"Then you are not so badly hurt?" I exclaimed joyfully. Radisson chuckled, and made answer in his old rich, laughing voice.
"Hurt? Why, lad, I have triumphed! The Keeper, the Swift Arrow and I will travel the last trail together ere long, but see!" And he waved the paper of Hudson aloft as might a boy, then his eyes went to the Cree chiefs, and he spoke in their own tongue.
"My brothers, White Eagle goes upon the spirit-trail. But first he would tell you that in the days to come, white men shall arrive among you. Do not make war upon them, my brothers. They will trade with you for your furs, and will bring much good to you. Will you remember this?"
"We will remember," answered The Crane gravely, and a murmur passed around among the other chiefs. The head of Swift Arrow suddenly sank forward and his hand dropped from that of Radisson. The Mohawk had not waited.
Radisson's face never changed as he asked the Crees how the fight had gone, and if Gib had been slain, and then drew Ruth and me down to him while he waited the answer.
"My father," said Uchichak slowly, "the Crees did not fight, for the enemy had gone. The Mighty One had fought for us and scattered them. But—" and he hesitated an instant, "as we came near, a gun was fired from the cave, and lightning shot across the snow. When we had sought the Chippewas, we found the Mighty One lying dead, and beneath his hoofs was the form of The Pike."
Uchichak paused. With a little shudder I remembered how I had seen the giant moose uprearing and striking out with hoofs and horns, and how he had stumbled across a man even as I fired. Ruth was sobbing quietly on Radisson's shoulder, and the old wanderer addressed us in English.
"Children, do not grieve. I am an old man, and have lived through more than most men. As for Gib, he has perished by the hand of God, even as I foretold that he would. Now listen carefully.
"You, Ruth, are of right named Marie de Courbelles. It were best to visit Montreal and Quebec, for there live your father's people, though he is dead long since, and there you may obtain your inheritance, which is a goodly one."
Ruth sobbed out that she wanted none of it, whereat the old man petted her head and smiled on me suddenly.
"Davie, you will care for the little maid?"
"An' she will let me, I will," was my low reply.
"Then I shall pass happy," and Radisson sighed as if a burden was off his mind. "I would that you had the old Bible of which you spoke, lass. I would like to hear once more the story of those days Christ spent in the wilderness. It hath ever attracted me strangely—I would that my days had been set where I might have known Him!"
And as Radisson voiced the age-old wish of the world, I bethought me that I still had the packet which The Keeper had put in my hands, and so drew it out hastily.
"I have it here—read it, Ruth!"
The little maid took the Book with trembling hands. The translation was Englished by Wicliff, and when she had found the place she put it into French again for Radisson. He listened gravely, his head drooping while she read, the stately chiefs standing around in silent attention, though they understood it not. When it was finished he sighed again.
"Thanks, my daughter. Brave Eyes, help me to my feet, for I would fain look upon the face of Hudson ere I pass."
With The Crane, I helped him to gain his feet, and he leaned heavily upon us. I motioned Ruth not to follow, for that sight was none for her eyes, and so we led him through the inner passage to the second chamber where sat the great mariner in his eternal silence. The glow from our torch lit up his face, and Radisson sank down against the table.
"Henry Hudson and Pierre Radisson!" I heard him murmur. "It were a fitting ending, and a noble one!" Pulling himself up, he signed to us that we should help him back again, which we did, nothing loath. Uchichak was trembling when we reached the outer cave, for that man who sat with quill in hand had frighted him mightily. Yet Radisson had been more observing than I, for all his weakness.
"Davie," he said, more faintly, when he was again sitting upon the skins, "I wish that you do one more thing for me. When I have entered upon the spirit-trail, then carry me into that chamber and let me sit at the table over against Henry Hudson. Place there The Keeper and The Swift Arrow also, for such greatness is worthy them.
"That keg upon the table holds powder, I think. When we are placed, lad, do you set that keg of powder in the narrow entrance and—"
He went no farther, for Ruth fell upon his neck with a great cry. But he knew that I had understood, and that I would obey. Nothing could better show the fantastic, grim spirit of the old wanderer than this last desire of his—to be tombed in the living rock, with Henry Hudson and the two Mohawks beside him. Nor, as I think now, was it so mad a wish after all; for what better tomb could Pierre Radisson have, in all this land he had found and loved and given to the world?
Now, since we had to pass the night here at least, I had the body of Swift Arrow carried within the second chamber. The Crees had already formed a camp outside, and as Radisson wished to taste fresh meat once more before he passed—for we had gone hungry of late, through having brought little food with us—I went outside with Uchichak. The Cree camp was in a place sheltered from the terrific, howling wind, and as the fires in the sky had now risen high overhead and sent down a ghostly light into the deep gulch, I was enabled to see the Mighty One where he lay—for the Indians had not dared to touch him.
That last chance shot of mine had pierced through his heart, striking him just behind the shoulder and going true. And what a great beast he was! I had shot moose ere this, with my arrows, and had seen full many, but never so huge a beast as this Mighty One. Still beneath his great body lay Gib o' Clarclach, his evil face untouched and grinning its last defiant grin up at the sky which he had blasphemed.
In that moment I was glad that no blow of mine had laid him low. He had lived wrongly, and died wrongly. What a contrast between his death and that of The Keeper! Yet the white man was of a race which we call superior, he knew of things which the Mohawk had never dreamed of, he had had advantages which The Keeper could never have had—and he had lost his soul alive. Nay, I am not judging him, God forbid! It may be that even such as he are not without hope elsewhere.
Uchichak plucked up his courage and together we cut off the choicest portions of the giant moose and carried them over to the fires of the camp in the shelter of the walls. Many of the Crees had gone on to the lodges, there to rescue Laughing Snow and to await the coming of Talking Owl from the western pass.
When the meat was cooked I carried it back to the cavern, where we found Radisson as we had left him, and but for his weakness I had never known that he was hurt. He seemed to have become twenty years younger in an hour.
Only Uchichak and one of two of the older chiefs had remained with us. We all partook of the meat, and I even forced a portion upon Ruth, who was in sore need of it. She, poor girl, had little heart for eating, but managed to do well enough, as did we all.
"Now let us consider," said Radisson, to whom the meal had given strength. Not even when he was facing death would he give up planning. "How are you to reach home again?"
"We have no home," said Ruth sadly.
"Ayrby is sold, and we may not return."
"Tut, child," he responded. "I make no doubt you can get the farm back again, if so you wish. Once I am gone, neither English nor French will molest you. Indeed, you might make for the nearest post and there take ship for the colonies. I would have you visit Montreal, if possible, and there regain the inheritance which awaits you. There will be ships in the Bay from Boston, mayhap, who will set forth in the spring."
Straight upon this there entered four warriors who bore the silent form of The Keeper. Radisson demanded to look upon the face of his friend once more, and I would have drawn Ruth aside, but she would not. And when The Keeper's face was uncovered, I was glad that this was so; for the noble old face was strangely exalted and lit with a great beauty such as never in all my life had I seen. I cannot describe it fittingly, yet it was a memory that has ever-remained fresh and vivid—as if God's hand had touched the worn features lightly, ere they fell into the repose of death.
Then they covered him again and bore him into the inner chamber, where they stayed no longer than might be. The old wanderer, I could see, was now sinking fast, and his hand would tremble as it clutched mine and Ruth's. Presently he pulled from about his neck a gold medal—the same, it proved, that had been given him long years before by the English king, ere his shameful betrayal. This he pressed into Ruth's hand.
"Here, my daughter—keep this in my memory, and with my blessing. It is a poor thing to remember me by, and yet it is all I have; it is the sole trace of honor that has come to me for all my labors, and I would that you keep it alway."
"Oh, we need naught to remember—" began Ruth, but ended in a sob. Perhaps to check her grief, Radisson asked her to read to him from the Book, and so she took it up again and after a little began to read, while the tears ran over her cheeks. Whether by accident or by design she never told me, but the passage was that wherein the prophet met and spoke with his God upon the mountain.
I watched Radisson as she read, and saw his face light up, then the look passed into one of awe and wonder. Slowly his head bowed down, until I checked Ruth with my hand, for I thought that the end had come; but it was not so, for he signed to her to continue, and raised his head once more, looking up at the roof of the cave with startled eyes, as though he saw there more than the bare rock. And with that he stretched out his arm, and I helped him to his feet. He shook me off and took one step forward alone.
"Not in the whirlwind," he cried passionately, his voice ringing deep echoes from all around, "not in the whirlwind, O Lord, nor in the fire, nor in the storm have I found Thee! But in the—still—small—"
He swayed forward, all the life gone out of him suddenly, and when I lowered him to the skins I knew that Radisson had departed upon the spirit-trail. I signed to The Crane, and we carried him into the inner chamber and seated him across the table from Hudson. Then—for I knew that in the morning no power would tempt me to enter that room again—I carried out the keg, which proved to be nearly full of coarse, dry powder, and left it in the passage.
"Come," said Ruth, catching at my arm, "we will sleep out by the fire. Here I—I cannot, Davie."
I held her to me for a moment, then told The Crane to lead her to the fire. When she had gone I gathered up the skins and furs, and after a little time we had fixed up a shelter for her in a cranny of the rocks, where I left her. I rejoined the silent Crees and flung myself down in the warmth of the fire to sleep, for I was very weary.
The day was high when I wakened. Ruth, it seemed, was still asleep. In the early morning the band of Talking Owl had arrived, and with Uchichak's warriors had swept away those that remained of the Chippewas. The days of the band were over; few ever returned to their villages, and those that did bore with them such a tale as kept Chippewa hunters in their own country for many winters to come.
My first duty before Ruth was up, was to clear away all signs of conflict. Gib and his dead were laid to rest in the outer cave, decently enough. The giant moose had already been quartered and the great antlers were preserved for me as trophies. So when Ruth appeared, naught remained of the struggle save the trampled snow and a few shattered fragments of arrows.
The Crees were anxious to be home again, having raided the lodges in the basin and burned them. So without delay I whistled Grim and entered the cave. Placing the keg of powder in the narrowest part of the entrance, I set a long train with a final fuse of birch bark. When all was ready I warned off the curious Crees and lit the bark with a stick from the fire.
For a moment it blazed up, and when I had turned from my hasty flight I saw only a tiny flicker of flame from the powder. Then came a cloud of smoke from the entrance, a low, thunderous roar that reverberated from the high cliffs overhead, and the great rocks crashed down in utter ruin. The cave was no more. Pierre Radisson slept with those whom he had chosen for company in his last long sleep.